


Ghosts of the Past

by Geek_Squad_Commander



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jealous John, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Post-Season/Series 03, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Slow Build, Vacation, Victor Trevor Being An Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geek_Squad_Commander/pseuds/Geek_Squad_Commander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock and John are dragged into visiting the Holmes' house for a week, they don't realize that it will alter their lives forever. When the past starts to unravel, they will have to fight for the ones they love, to hold onto everything they have just rebuilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> So basically this is my first long fic, I've written a few one-shots in the past but I really wanted to write a long fic for awhile. I will try and update regularly! If you want to follow me you can check out my tumblr:  
> johnlock-is-religion.tumblr.com  
> I hope you guys enjoy! xoxo

He walked up the stairs of 221B to the familiar sounds of arguing. There was only one person that Sherlock used that voice towards, so as he swung open the door, he was not surprised to see Mycroft Holmes sitting down in his chair.

“I won’t go,” Sherlock said. He was facing the window, clearly uninterested in whatever Mycroft had to say. “Why should I, when you are perfectly capable of going yourself?”

“You know why Sherlock.” Mycroft replied, his voice oozing with frustration.

It wasn’t often that Mycroft actually came to the flat, and when he did it was usually something of “national importance”. It was likely that he was giving Sherlock a case, and Sherlock was pretending not to be interested. Sibling rivalry and all that. For the two smartest men in London, the Holmes brothers acted about five years old when they were forced to converse with one another.

Making his way to the kitchen, John put the kettle on to make himself a cuppa. “What’s all this about then?” he asked, speaking more to Mycroft than Sherlock.

Sherlock turned around, with a puzzled expression, clearly just realising that John had entered the room. “Parents,” is all he said and looked to Mycroft, as if to say, “you can tell him the rest”

Mycroft heaved a sigh and looked at John from where he was sitting. “Our parents have been complaining that we do not visit them enough. Apparently seeing them at Christmas every year is not sufficient for them any more. They have been quite persistent. Next week is their 50th wedding anniversary, and they are having a dinner to commemorate the event. Unfortunately, I will not be able to attend,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  He turned to look back to Sherlock, “but Sherlock can, and is choosing not to go, you know how he likes to be difficult,” he sneered, looking at John again.

Picking up his tea, John made his way over into the sitting room, and sat down in Sherlock’s chair, as a certain Holmes brother was occupying his. “Right. Okay, and Sherlock why exactly can’t you go?” John asked. It had been a long day at the surgery and the last thing he wanted to do was to sit and listen to bickering. It was best to just get this sorted out now, so Mycroft would leave, and Sherlock could be left to sulk.

“I’m busy.” Sherlock replied, picking up his violin from the case on the floor.

“If by busy, you mean lounging around the flat all day complaining that Lestrade hasn’t given you a case.” John said, “It’s your parent’s anniversary, for God’s sake, it would be a nice thing to do for them.”

“John, do you have any idea how immensely boring it will be to spend a week with them? Listening to their mindless chatter, and doing nothing of actual importance, my brain will rot if I go there alone.”

John took another sip of his tea, “Look Sherlock, it’s the nice thing to do, I’m sure a week with your parents won’t kill you. It might be good for you to relax and get out of the city for awhile.” Sherlock glared at him, and began to play his violin. A sharp tune, that exuded anger.

“Actually John,” Mycroft interjected, “I forgot to mention, you have been invited as well”

“Me?” John asked, “Why was I invited” he looked to Sherlock for explanation, but he was to busy angrily playing his violin to notice John’s questioning look.

“It would seem as though mummy took a liking to you last time you met, she would be delighted if you accompanied Sherlock” Mycroft replied. “well I should get going” He stood up and began to make his way to the door. “and John try and convince Sherlock to come, he does tend to listen to you better.” And with that, Mycroft was gone, closing the door behind him as he went.

As soon as the door was shut, Sherlock stopped playing his violin. He came over to John, who was sitting in his chair. He glared at him saying non-verbally, “get out of my seat”. Reluctantly John stood, and shuffled over to sit in his chair. Sherlock slumped down in his seat, bringing his feet up on the cushions.

They stared at each other for what felt like ages. Neither one of them wanting to be the first one to speak.

“Okay, what is it?” John asked finally. All he wanted to do was shower and go to bed, maybe read a little. He didn’t have the energy to be playing this game.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at him, amused at John’s annoyance, but still he said nothing. Instead he stood up and walked to the kitchen to see if John had made any tea for him. Sure enough there was a cold cup of tea sitting on the countertop. It had become second nature for John to make two cups of tea, as Sherlock never felt the need to make his own.

“Come on Sherlock, would you just tell me what it is already, I’m really not in the mood for this right now.”

Sherlock walked back, cold cup of tea in hand, and sat back down in his chair. “Are you going to come with me?” he inquired.

“To your parent’s house?” John asked.

“Obviously.” He snapped.

“I dunno Sherlock, it seems a bit weird for me to go. It’s their anniversary, and I barely know them”

“They specifically asked you to come” he countered “It’s not weird, you just don’t want to go because you know it will be boring.”

“No… I just… wouldn’t be comfortable, I- I’m sure it would be enjoyable” he stuttered. Damn. That did not sound convincing at all.

Sherlock smirked, “Just admit it John, you know I’m right, it would be absolute torture.”

“Sherlock” John sighed, “you should really go, they want to see you, it’s important to them. Just go for the week.”

“You’re avoiding the question John, are you coming with me?” Sherlock repeated. “I won’t go unless you come with me.”

Great, that was perfect. Why did Sherlock have to be so infuriating. If John didn’t agree to go now, he would be riddled with guilt. Sherlock’s parents would be devastated and it would be all John’s fault.

It might not be that bad, last time he saw Sherlock’s parents was at Christmas with Mary. Of course Sherlock had drugged everyone in the house, and they went off to face Magnussen, it wasn’t exactly a fond memory. But before all the chaos has started it was pleasant, and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, were nothing short of lovely.

Maybe now with Mary out of his life, it wouldn’t be that bad. He had been stressed the last time he went, but now that he was living back at 221B, he would be able to relax. The more he thought about it, the more appealing it became.

“Fine”, John smiled, “I’ll come with you and you are going to behave and enjoy yourself.”

Sherlock’s smirk vanished, he was not expecting John to actually consider going on this ludicrous trip. Sherlock had learned over the years, that once John has made a decision he rarely changed his mind, especially when it was an opportunity to prove Sherlock wrong.

John, looked to Sherlock for a response, but when it became clear he was not going to get one he got up and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to have a shower.” He called over his shoulder.

Sherlock heard the click of the bathroom door, followed by the rhythmic sound of water hitting against tile. He sat in silence, furious with himself that he somehow was weaseled into going on this trip.  He never should have allowed an opportunity for John to prove him wrong. He should have known that John would jump at the chance to win for once. With nothing left to do, he picked up his violin again and began to play, this time a much softer tune.

It was decided, Sherlock and John were going to the Holmes’ for a week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
